


Egalmoth, Underappreciated Romance Novelist of Gondolin

by Pollys_hymnia



Series: Romancing the (Singing) Stone [1]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: And Mentions of Florid Prose, Aside From Salgant, Characters Writing Fanfiction, Egalmoth the Romance Novelist, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Gondolin, Gondolin Shenanigans, Humor, M/M, Maeglin Makes Fanart, Pre-Fall of Gondolin, Someone Needs to Show Egalmoth Some Love, The Silmarillion References, Turgon Pretends Nothing is Happening, Vague Allusion to the Nirnaeth, and fluff, but really just crack, glorthelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 10:21:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17826854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pollys_hymnia/pseuds/Pollys_hymnia
Summary: Egalmoth, Nom-de-Plume Gilamloth, is partly famous for his romantic stories of Glorfindel and Ecthelion.  This has made him some friends as well as some enemies.  Most agree, however, that he really just needs to write something else.  And he might, some day.  But that day is not this day.





	Egalmoth, Underappreciated Romance Novelist of Gondolin

**Author's Note:**

> Big thank you to [actuallyfeanor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/actuallyfeanor) for some hilarious ideas and descriptions. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I'm still laughing to myself about the ridiculousness.

Egalmoth mouthed the top of his quill and gnawed the frayed end lightly before reaching down to cross out yet another sentence.  He drummed his fingers against his desk, “Hmm no, that will _not_ do, Glorfindel’s hair is more flaxen than bronze, and his eyes more resemble the pools of Aelin-uial than those of Ivrin. Or maybe…” he scribbled in ‘lapis lazuli orbs glittering like the deep pools of Aelin-uial’ and paused to admire his work.

There was a knock at the door, Egalmoth started then sat back in his chair, setting the quill down, “Come in.”

Duilin opened the door and stepped into the room, “You’re writing again? What are you working on now?  I really hope it’s not another story about Glorfindel and Ecthelion.”

“Ah, well, maybe…”

“I really think you need new subject matter.  Isn’t this like the fiftieth one?  And anyway, Turgon has called a meeting this morning if you remember?  I thought you might have forgotten as usual so I decided to come by and collect you.”

“I hadn’t forgotten,” Egalmoth said and rose from his chair, “I was just stuck on a particularly tricky plot point and some descriptive metaphors.”

“If it involves comparing Glorfindel’s eyes in any way to water, I veto it.”

Egalmoth frowned, “Oh.”

Duilin laughed, “Come on, you know I do _like_ your writing… you just tend to obsess a bit about certain things,” he linked his arm with Egalmoth’s and started to guide him toward the door, “Now let’s get going before we’re late.”

 

Turgon was already waiting on his throne surrounded by the other ten assembled lords when Egalmoth and Duilin walked in.  They bowed low.

“So you found him, good,” Turgon began, “I called you all here to discuss matters of war.  There is rumor from abroad of a great union and plans to strike back against Morgoth Bauglir.”

“At last,” Penlod said.

“What union?” Glorfindel asked.

“And are we in it?” Ecthelion added.

“We are not, perhaps, in the union but I do intend to aid my brother when the time comes…”

Turgon continued, mulling over the finer points of strategy and scraps of news and rumors he had heard, making plans for the possibility of a future battle with Gondolin in it. 

Egalmoth was mostly silent during the meeting.  He listened intently but out of the corner of his eye he was watching Glorfindel and Ecthelion and thinking again of his latest story.   He had written many such stories about them, all very romantic and somewhat erotic.  He had published them for those who could afford it (fortunately many of his own people could, and did) under the name Gilamloth, star-flowered crest.  Thinly veiled perhaps, but that helped, he thought, with the publicity.  Still, while he had some fans many people thought his works very sentimental, still others though them simply inappropriate.  That never stopped Egalmoth though.

As the meeting drew to a close, Egalmoth thought over both Turgon’s words and Duilin’s words from earlier.  Maybe Duilin was right and he should find other subject matter.  He wondered, could he write a story about the king? 

No, no…he didn’t think he could.  He didn’t know what or how he could write such a story.  Of course, Turgon had been married, but writing about Turgon and his dead wife seemed in poor taste.  And since then Turgon had been alone, hadn’t he?  Still, Egalmoth resolved to keep his ears open in case any interesting news or rumors might come to him too.

Salgant approached Egalmoth and roused him from his deep contemplation, “Egalmoth?”

“Yes?”

“Are you writing anything new?  I would dearly like another story, especially another story about Glorfindel and Ecthelion?  Maybe with their finely chiseled muscles shining faintly as they make love by the light of the thinly veiled moon?” Salgant’s eyes took on a dreamy cast.

“I am writing about them actually, but they make love clad only in starlight on a cloudless summer night, beside one of Ecthelion’s fountains as the water flows gently and whispers to them of love.”

Salgant clapped his hands together, “OH I love it.”

“Mmm, yes thank you, I hope to finish it soon.”

Behind Egalmoth, Glorfindel was rolling his eyes and Ecthelion sighed faintly.  Galdor meanwhile openly glared at him.  He began to approach Egalmoth but thought better of it and walked out instead, looking all together put-out.

Maeglin walked up alongside Salgant and Egalmoth, “Starlight you say?  Beside a fountain?”

“Yes, well that is one scene anyway, the climax if you will.  There’s another scene on horseback where Ecthelion’s horse runs astray, startled by a rock slide, and they have to share Glorfindel’s horse on the way back to Gondolin.”

“His white horse?” Maeglin asked, storing this information for later to use as artistic inspiration for his erotic paintings and sculptures.  He had many such works, mostly inspired by Egalmoth’s writings, but he kept them well hidden.  No one but he had yet looked upon them. 

“Yes, his white horse with a streaming mane the color of spring storm clouds.”

Maeglin nodded, Salgant sighed again. 

Glorfindel bit his tongue and approached the small group, “It’s a lovely day, perhaps you would all like to come outside and we can enjoy some music together?”

Ecthelion followed him over, “Yes, what a wonderful idea.”

“Oh, but I don’t want to distract Egalmoth from finishing his story,” Salgant protested weakly.

“I wasn’t planning to write any further today, come let’s sit together under the sun, I’m sure we have more important matters to discuss anyway,” Egalmoth acknowledged.

All the while, Maeglin was covertly looking Glorfindel and Ecthelion up and down mentally painting his next work.  Idril was sitting in the corner taking mental notes on all their interactions.  She decided she would approach Galdor later and question him about why he had stormed off in a fit, again. 

Turgon walked past all of them without acknowledging anyone, on his way to speak with one of his advisors. Rog followed Turgon but spared a glance at Glorfindel and Ecthelion before doing so.  He would never admit to it, but he enjoyed the stories of Glorfindel and Ecthelion, even though he wished Egalmoth's style was less sentimental and florid.  Turgon secretly agreed.

Slowly, Glorfindel and Ecthelion herded the rest of them outside.  Ecthelion played for them on his flute while Glorfindel sang softly and the others watched and listened, each with his or her own thoughts.

 

Later that night, Egalmoth sat down again with quill and parchment and worked on finishing his story.  After making love beside the fountain, Ecthelion reached for his flute and began to play a tender melody while reclined against Glorfindel’s broad chest and encircled by his strong arms.  ‘The End’ Egalmoth wrote with a flourish and then added a question mark when he thought better of it.

**Author's Note:**

> Like Egalmoth I will finish this with... The End?
> 
> (Trust me it's not the end)


End file.
